How terrible it is
To love something
That death can touch -
How cold the nights
Have become,
How cold his body
Must be,
Laying in a box somewhere
Without me.
But still I think
How wonderful it was
To love and be loved;
How we finally had
Something to die for.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
